


Soul-Stealer

by E_K_Hannila



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Natemare - Freeform, Phantom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 03:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14511888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_K_Hannila/pseuds/E_K_Hannila
Summary: So this story is based off of a headcanon of mine, where Natemare is a teenage version of Phantom.





	Soul-Stealer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michael1214](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michael1214/gifts).



I strained against the ropes around my torso, the rough nylon cord scraping the skin off my wrists. The blindfold and gag were stifling in the hot, still air, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. 

"Good, you're awake," said a horribly familiar voice. The man who'd taken me. I'd been walking home from the bus stop, and he'd just... grabbed me. No warning, no sound, just a sudden impact as he tackled me. I'd woken up here. 

"What do you want?" I said, fighting to keep my voice from shaking. 

"To practice," the man said. My blood ran cold as millions of interpretations flooded my thoughts, and I struggled to get free. 

"Let me go, you bastard!" I spat. 

"I'm just learning to use my powers as a soul-stealer -- rats, birds, lizards, and the like. Never something as smart as a human, though," he said, standing up. "You, you're complicated. Your souls are a whole lot more than just life force. Usually, I'd have to capture a few dozen pigeons and crows just for lunch, but one human soul -- that'll last a good, long while." 

"You eat souls?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. 

"I just told you, I'm a soul-stealer," the man said. "My parents were, too. At least, one of them was. We steal people's souls. Sometimes we eat them, sometimes we sell them." 

"You're gonna steal my soul and sell it to someone?" 

"Well, I'll probably eat it," the man said. "I haven't had a human soul before. I hear it's quite the experience." 

He reached forward, lifting my blindfold. We looked at each other in surprise -- he was much younger than I'd thought he'd be. He looked about my age, give or take a year. He had shockingly pale skin, with black circles around his eyes and blue, painted-on tear tracks down his face. 

"Um..." He stepped back, looking at me with concern. "You're... you're very young. I wasn't expecting that." 

"Same to you," I said. "So does that mean you're gonna let me go?" 

"I don't know," the kid said with a sigh, sitting down in a metal folding chair. "I mean, I can't kill you. I promised my parents that I wouldn't kill any kids. But on the other hand, you know I exist, and I can't risk you telling anyone. So I can't just let you go." 

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," I said. "My parents are used to me coming home late, they won't ask any questions." 

The kid thought about this for almost a full minute while I sat sweating bullets, then got up and started unwinding the ropes. 

"If I find out you told anyone," he said, "I'll kill you." 

\- fifteen years later - 

I sat down at a desk, drumming my fingers nervously. This may be the dumbest thing I've ever done. 

"How can I help you?" said Nathan, the owner of the Phantom Nightclub. 

"I -- I heard you can help people who've been down on their luck," I said. 

Nathan nodded. 

"Well, I've been having some money troubles lately," I stammered, unable to look away from his brilliant violet eyes. "I'm a month behind on my rent, and no matter how hard I try, I just can't find a good job. Most people just don't wanna hire a theater major." 

"Tell you what," Nathan said. "I can get you a job, one that pays beautifully. By this time next week, you'll never have to worry about money again." 

"I'll take it," I said, but something felt off about him, and the second I said it I wanted to take it back. 

Nathan didn't seem to pick up on my anxiety, and handed me a contract. "Sign here, here, and --" 

"What?" I said nervously, looking up at him. 

"How long have you had that scar?" Nathan said, pointing to an old welt on the back of my hand. 

"About fifteen years, I think," I said. "Why?" 

The next time I looked at him, I could almost see it. Shaggier hair, a rounder face, and blue tear streaks -- they were still there; faint, discolored lines on his cheeks. 

I jumped out of the chair, backing away a few steps. "You," I breathed. 

"Go, now, before I change my mind," Nathan said, pointing at the door. "I spared you once, I won't do it again."


End file.
